


Patience

by ThatComicGirl52



Series: Monthly Oneshots [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dark Stuff, Implied Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne - Freeform, M/M, Monthly oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatComicGirl52/pseuds/ThatComicGirl52
Summary: “You’re right. You aren’t Talon. You’re weaker than he was. But that won’t last.”





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> This is my monthly oneshot for November. Thank you so much to Do_The_Cool_Whip, who without her, this oneshot would not exist. This was the oneshot pairing that was voted for this previous month on my monthly oneshot poll. To find out how you can take part in my poll, and have access to more exciting things having to do with my fanfiction, check out my tumblr at thatcomicgirl52.tumblr.com.  
> This fic takes place in a different universe then my fanficiton, Million Reasons To Leave.

The stench of rotting meat wakes me up. I try to stretch my legs, but stop when pain shoots through my calf like a burning fire. My initial reaction is to reach out, but my wrists are bound above my head. I can feel something warm dribble down my arms. 

Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking a few times as I try to make sense of my surroundings. I can’t even remember how I got here. The last thing I can remember is being on patrol with Batman, discussing the Crime Syndicate with him and Commissioner Gordon on the roof of the GCPD.

The Crime Syndicate were back on our earth, more determined than ever to destroy the Justice League, destroy their allies, and take over our world. The Crime Syndicate is a serious threat, and of course every superhero on the planet had concerns, but I was confident in our ability to defeat them. After all, we had done it before.

But that was then. That was before I woke up in the darkness, chained up with bleeding gashes all over my body. Yeah, I’m not feeling as confident about this whole Crime Syndicate thing now as I was then.

I can hear water dripping somewhere in the room, a distant echo. It’s so dark, I can barely see in front of me, but there’s enough light that I can see the fresh bruises and scars that cover my body. The smell of the room is so bad that it triggers my gag reflex. Every part of this scenario is troubling, but the most unsettling thing by far, is the fact that I’ve been stripped naked. 

Someone undressed me, abused me, and then locked me up in some sort of dungeon or cave. And that’s what makes me really angry. And what makes me even more furious, is that I can’t even remember it happening.

Somewhere in the distance, most likely from one of the dark shadows of the room, I can hear the slosh of water. As if someone is trudging through puddles. I’m not alone. Someone is watching me, studying me. I won’t stand for that.

“I know you’re there! Who are you?!” I shout into the darkness. I can’t make out where the person is coming from, I just know they’re there. They wanted to make their presence known. They want me to know I’m being watched.

The sloshing of the puddles stops for only a moment, but then begins again. The only real response I get is the echoing of my own voice. 

I growl in frustration, tugging at the chains again, but that only causes my wrists to rub up against the metal cuffs and bleed more. 

I turn my head in the direction the sound is coming from, squinting as I try to make out the figure looming in the shadows.

The stranger is tall and broad, his breathing audible as he steps closer. Bright, familiar blue eyes stare back at me, studying me with an intensity so strong, I can practically feel it on my skin. 

I know those eyes. I know that figure, but it can’t be him. It can’t be.

“Bruce?” I whisper in disbelief, but the stranger just scoffs in response. He sounds a lot like Bruce.

I know it’s not though, because I’ve met this man before. I met him the last time the Crime Syndicate came to our world.

“Owlman,” I growl, and the fury I feel inside ignites like a forest fire. 

We’ve been through this before, Owlman and I. The story is simple enough; Owlman’s Dick Grayson died, he misses him, so he decides to take me instead. It’s sad, but also a little pathetic. Owlman is so desperate for his partner back, that he’s willing to kidnap the first one he comes across when he enters an alternate earth. I kind of feel bad for him, in a twisted and messed up sort of way. 

“Talon,” he says, and I can hear the twisted smirk in his voice. I hate it.

“I’m  _ not  _ Talon!” I snarl at him. Owlman takes another step closer, allowing me to make out more details. 

To my surprise, he’s not in his suit. From what I can tell, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of old sweatpants. They hang far too low on his waist for comfort, and even in this light, I can see the scars that decorate his strong, built chest. 

It unsettles me, to see him so naked and open. He looks so much like the Bruce I know.

Whenever I pictured Owlman, I had always imagined him in his suit. It made me feel better, to pretend that he didn’t have any other identity. It made it easier for me to hate him. 

“You’re right. You  _ aren’t  _ Talon. You’re  _ weaker _ than he was, but that won’t last.”

Before I can respond, before I can even take in a breath, he’s on top of me.

And everything fades to black.

  
  


*******************

  
  


I whine for him, rolling over in the silky sheets and scrabbling to get ahold of something. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t lay here, still and patient, and wait for him to be ready. I’m ready now! I want it now!

“Patience, Talon,” he says, his voice calm and low. He lays a hand against my naked thigh, stroking the skin there ever so gently. It makes me whimper in surprise, because I’m not used to such a gentle touch. I’m not used to him treating me like I’m made out of glass. I’m not sure whether I like it or not.

“S-sir?” I stutter, as his hand begins to crawl up the inside of my thigh, slowly approaching my leaking cock.

The careful touch ends as soon as it begins with a loud slap against my face. 

I’m quiet when he strikes me, refusing to show how much that surprised me. I should never be surprised. I should always expect the unexpected, be prepared for anything. It’s what I’ve been taught. 

I glare at the clean shaven man, my face burning red. Owlman’s not intimidated though. He just smirks at me, his eyes dancing dangerously.

“Stupid boy,” he spits out, with that knowing smile. I growl at him for that, jumping up to attack. I go for his eyes first, trying to claw them out. He’s expecting that though, easily grabbing my by the arms and swinging me off the bed and onto the floor. I hit the floor with a thud, gasping for breath while Owlman straddles my waist, pulling my wrists over my head. He snickers, watching me with an amused expression. 

He’s mocking me. Humoring me. Because I’m not enough yet. I’m not the Talon he needs, the one he expects.

“Weak and predictable. Nine months of training, and you’re still a disappointment,” he says, watching me closely. I want to punch him for that, beat him down until he’s nothing but a bloody corpse. 

But I can’t. I won’t. I’d rather he be alive than dead.

“Go fuck yourself!” I shout, but Owlman just throws his head back and laughs. 

I barely acknowledge his laugh though. I’m too distracted by his naked cock rubbing against mine. I can feel how stiff he is, and when he starts to move against me, I can’t help but moan.

“Idiot. You’re letting your body’s needs get the better of you again,” Owlman says. The disapproval is clear in his voice, but there’s also a hint of lust in there as well. He’s enjoying this too.

I don’t answer him. I’m preoccupied with the way his body is grinding against mine. I just close my eyes and let my head fall back, as Owlman’s grip on me tightens. 

It feels good, the pain. I can actually feel the pain, unlike everything else. 

I want more of it, and fortunately for me, Owlman gives me it.

  
  


***************

  
  


The man cries out, begging me to stop. My grin widens as I plunge my knife deep into his thigh. He cries louder, tears streaming down his face. He screams like a child.

Pathetic.

“I don’t know where she is! I don’t! Please! I don’t know anything about her!” He screams. I sneer at him. I know he’s lying. I know he’s not telling me the truth. I had hoped several hundred knife wounds would pull the truth out of him, but apparently, that’s not enough.

“Those are some nice eyes you have there. I wouldn’t mind cutting them out for my collection,” I taunt. His eyes widen as he helplessly tries to wiggle out of my grasp. 

“No, no, no, no, no! Please, please-“

He finally stops crying when I break his neck, the snap clear and loud in the dark alley. I just couldn’t stand him anymore. He needed to die.

I sigh in disappointment as I retrieve my knife from the corpse and wipe off the blood on the man’s shirt. What a waste of time this has all been. I spent the last two hours tracking this pathetic nobody down and interrogating him, and I am no closer to finding the vigilante girl.

“Lost your patience again, I see,” a deep, familiar voice says from behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. I put the knife back in my belt, and pull out my phone instead. I tap on the camera icon. Owlman growls in disgust.

“Why do you insist on doing that?” He says with disapproval. 

“I like to remember the occasion.”

Owlman doesn’t answer. He just stands there and watches as the camera light flashes. I look down at the photo and grin with delight, relishing in my kill. 

I actually kind of feel something when I look at that picture.

“You have enough photos already of your victims. You don’t need anymore. You’re too sentimental,” he says, once I’ve put my phone away. I turn around, staring daggers at him. Owlman believes that once you kill someone, that should be the end of it. You shouldn’t give them another thought, but I like to remember all my victories. I don’t feel so numb when I remember.

He’s always doing that though; putting me down. Criticizing me. I can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me crazy. 

If something isn’t done the exact way he likes it, it’s wrong. It reminds me of someone else I used to know. 

“He didn’t know anything anyway. That ‘hunch’ you had was wrong.”

“You don’t know that for sure!” 

“I do,” he says, before turning away. I stare at his retreating back for a moment, before looking back at the dead man. I growl in frustration and kick the body in the stomach as hard as I can. 

It doesn’t make me feel any better.

  
  


******************

  
  


When I finally do track down the vigilante girl, beat her to the brink of death, and take off her hood, it doesn’t surprise me to see that familiar face. I had a feeling it was her the whole time, and when I did reveal her identity, I actually smiled, because I had been right.

Barbara Gordon. Barely breathing. The blood splattered across her face too dark of a red to match her hair. 

I wrap my hands around her neck with the intent to strangle her. I want to watch her suffer slowly for all that she’s done to me. Barbara’s let me down. She failed, and now I want to punish her for it. Even if this isn’t the same Barbara Gordon I once knew.

If I’m being honest, it’s not her I want to kill, but she’s close enough. I’d rather kill Bruce, because really, this is all his fault. He should have found me and rescued me. That’s what he’s always done in the past. Whenever I couldn’t save myself, he did.

But not this time. This time, he failed. Maybe he didn’t even try.

When I do strangle her, it’s not half as satisfying as I hoped it would be. When I see her take her last breath, when I see her lifeless arms fall to her side, I feel nothing. No joy, no pleasure, not even any guilt. 

I feel empty. I don’t even feel alive. I can’t remember the last time I did.

When I get back to the cave and tell Thomas that the mission is complete, he only nods in response.

“Very good, Talon.”

I wait for him to say something else, anything, but he doesn’t. He just turns his back to me and continues his weight lifting.  

He’s not in uniform right now; his exercise shorts are small and snug, his bulge visible and distracting. He’s shirtless, the sweat beading down his perfectly sculpted abs. His body is covered in scars and burns, but he wears them so proudly. Like they’re trophies.

I take a step towards him, placing my goggles on the top of my head. I cock my head to the side, watching how his dick twitches when he lifts the weights. I come closer. 

Thomas doesn’t acknowledge me, continuing his exercises. It isn’t until I place my hand on the barbell that he even glances at me. I hesitate for only a moment.

“Fuck me,” I demand. Thomas raises a brow, both surprised and niffed at being told what to do. No one ever tells Owlman what to do, most of all Talon.

But I’m not asking Owlman to fuck me, I’m asking Thomas.

If I had asked for anything else in the world, he would have said no. I know this for sure, but I asked for the one thing Thomas enjoys more than me.

He does it with me pressed against the control board, hard and dry just the way he likes it. The way I’ve learned to like it. He slams into me with an inhuman speed, his cock buried deep inside of me. He’s so big and overwhelming, that it almost makes it possible for me to feel again. For a moment there, I actually do feel something, but it’s not what I was hoping for.

I’ve been spending the last two years trying to avoid my feelings. I’ve been trying to push them down into a deep, dark place that I’ll never have to visit again. I’ve been trying to be like Owlman. I’ve been trying to be the Talon he wants me to be, and in a lot of ways, I am. 

But I can’t ignore the truth. Not anymore. I can’t pretend that it’s not Batman I wish was fucking me instead of Owlman. I can’t pretend that I’m not sad he never came for me, never found me. 

Why did Bruce fail to find me? I was so sure he would, but I was wrong. Owlman was right.

I am Talon, partner to Owlman. I’m a killing machine, and it’s time I forgot about Batman. It’s time I forgot about the world I used to belong to.

Nightwing is gone, and only Talon remains now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
